


That's an Order

by thatgirlinredandgold



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Jemma Simmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirlinredandgold/pseuds/thatgirlinredandgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So the whole time then? Every day that we’ve know each other, the Academy, SciOps, this god damn plane, every second that we’ve been together has been a lie? That’s good to know.”</p>
<p>Jemma Simmons was never who she said she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's an Order

Fitz can feel her shaking next to him, so wordlessly he slips his hand into hers. It’s the only comfort he can offer as they’re being ushered forcefully onto the Bus. She glances up at him and the corners of her mouth tilt up into what he thinks is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but honestly looks a bit more like a grimace than anything. They can’t say much when they’re surrounded by Hydra agents, but, then again, they’ve never really needed to say much of anything to each other. Fitz was able to read Simmons better than anyone, perhaps even herself. Between them words were mostly for the benefit of others. It was how they operated, because even now as they are forced to face the man who betrayed them, the man who ripped the world out from underneath their feet, they are still Fitzsimmons.

He's vaguely aware of his own heart beating twice as hard in his chest, and of the way his breathing has become shorter and shallower. He's absolutely terrified. Simmons grips his hand tighter, and he’s grateful for the small second of reassurance it allows him. But when they turn the corner and they’re standing face to face with Garrett, all thoughts of comfort flee and Fitz can feel his heart in his throat.

“Well,” he says as Ward moves past them to stand by his side. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. Coulson’s orders, I take it?”

They say nothing, but Fitz notices how Simmons has gone almost stiff beside him, her face turned away and refusing to meet his gaze.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Garrett continues. “You don’t have to say anything. In fact, it’s probably best if I do the talking for awhile. I have a proposition for you, Fitz.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He laughs, and Fitz feels sick to his stomach. There was a time, not too long ago, that Fitz would have thought it was impossible for him to hate somebody this much, yet here he is.

“Always the defiant one, aren’t you?” He laughs, and Fitz could throw up if he wasn’t so terrified. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Fitz looks down, ashamed to admit that this monster of a man had seen so clearly through his false bravado.

Garrett chuckles softly to himself, and Fitz wonders if it’s possible for him to appear any more vile than he already is. But then his gaze moves from him to Simmons, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a wolfish grin. It’s not hard for Fitz to imagine what he must be thinking, but the mere thought of it sends a white hot anger through his gut. Before he has a chance to realize what he’s doing, Fitz sends his elbow flying into the stomach of the Hydra agent who is restraining him and lunges at Garrett, barely registering the fact that Simmons has stumbled backwards in surprise.

Fitz is easily overpowered. He may have had more training in the field than he did a few months ago, but he was still a scientist who had failed his field assessment, and he was no match for Ward.

Garrett’s laughing again, as Fitz tries desperately to calm down enough to clear his head. “We could use more people like you,” he says smugly. “You’d be an asset, Agent Fitz.”

“I would never.” Fitz spits, but his voice is shaky at best and he’s almost certain that nobody in the room has bought his false confidence.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say never. You remember what I said to you back at the Hub? Your services will be required, one way or another. But the offer still stands- accept a place in Hydra, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and, well… I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

His heart rate is increasing again, but he’s determined not to let his nervousness show. Garrett was right. Here, in this moment, he was nothing more than a tightly wrapped bundle of misplaced bravery and rebellious one liners. He grits his teeth before speaking, but more to still the tremor in his voice than to add any real bite. “Never.”

“It’s not so bad, Fitz. Hydra has a lot to offer you. You’d be free to research what you want, unlimited access to any resources you need, a support system to guide you on your way to groundbreaking discoveries. Any scientist would want that, wouldn’t they Simmons?”

It takes a moment for him to register what Garrett had said, but the sharp intake of breath to his right pulls him back to reality. He turns abruptly to look at his partner, her face pale, fingers shaking, and tears just starting to pool in her eyes. He can barely believe what he’s seeing. The Jemma in front of him is not scared, at least not for the reasons he would have thought, she is nervous and feeling so, so guilty. She won’t meet his gaze, and her eyes are glued to the spot on the floor just in front of him.

Suddenly he realizes that nothing has been said for several seconds, but he’s too shocked and confused to get his tongue to work properly.

“I’m so sorry Fitz.” She mumbles quietly to the ground, the first thing she’s said in a very long while.

He can’t believe it, won’t believe it. She shuffles nervously past him to take her place next to Garrett. Finally, he’s able to speak again, but is only able to manage out one word.  

“Jemma…?”

She looks up for the briefest of moments, just to lock her eyes on his and to offer a sad sort of smile. His mind is moving too fast, blinking through a thousand different thoughts all in a single second. He can’t keep up with them. He reaches one arm out as if to pull her back over to his side, but his fingers grasp at nothing. “Jemma, please.” His voice sounds pitiful, even to him. “Tell me he’s lying. Please.”

Her chin is quivering, and red is coloring her face in ugly blotches. For Fitz, time has seemed to stand still for just a moment, like the calm before a storm that he knows is brewing just on the horizon. He can feel it building around him, can practically hear the air being charged with an angry sort of energy as she takes one last shuddering breath before saying the two words that unleashed it all.

“Hail Hydra.”

The storm breaks and there is an furious outpouring of pain, disbelief, betrayal. All of it is flowing through his veins and pounding in his head.

"I'm going to be sick."

He can't bring himself to look at her, because if he does he knows he'd break. Instead he focuses on Ward, who is trying his hardest to appear just as cold and emotionless as ever, he focuses on the bruise forming on his left forearm from wear a Hydra soldier grabbed it too hard, he focuses on the weight of Trip’s EMP in his pocket. Anything to distract him from the fact that his best friend is currently making those quiet hiccuping noises she makes when she’s trying not to cry, and that just two minutes ago that alone would have made him want nothing more than to wrap her tightly in his arms and hope that his mere presence would be enough to still her cries. Now, the thought wakes up some anger inside of him that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. And just that fact that it’s Jemma who is causing that anger, and that he is this angry with her, feels so horrible and so wrong.

He needs to get out. He’s alone now, a single S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in an enemy camp, and if he stays any longer he’s not certain what they will do to him. He fingers the EMP in his pocket, quietly mulling over a plan in his head while blatantly ignoring the one person in the world he thought he could trust.

“What does he have there?”

Garrett’s voice shocks him into looking up, his surprise being just enough time for Jemma to walk back over and gently take his hand out of his pocket. “It’s an EMP, sir.” She says, and her voice feels like a knife sticking out of his back.

Garrett laughs without humor. “You thought you could pull one over on us, Fitz? You couldn’t even pass your field assessments.”

“You’re right.” He says, but he’s not looking at Garrett. His eyes are locked onto the pale fingers wrapped around his wrist. There’s a lump forming in the back of his throat, and it hinges him to reality. While his world is falling apart and he feels like his entire life is drifting farther and farther away, it’s that feeling that reminds him that he’s still there. He makes a split second decision, twisting her hand off his and cringing at the crack and sharp intake of breath that follows it. He presses the button before he has a chance to feel guilty.

The Bus erupts in chaos, but before he can make an escape he is flanked on both sides by two burly Hydra soldiers. But he can't exactly count his attempt at an escape as a complete loss, because it is at that moment that Fitz notices how Ward has left his stoic position to kneel beside a white faced, grimacing Garrett.

“What the hell did you do?” He spits angrily, fixing Fitz with a cold glare as he helps Garrett onto the couch.

Simmons glances back at them for just a second, but quickly returns her gaze towards Fitz, her eyes wide in shock and terror, and her left hand absentmindedly rubbing the right. “Fitz,” she breathes. “What did you do?”

But he’s not looking at her, because he can’t. He focuses all his attention on Garrett, because he’s allowed to hate Garrett. He’s supposed to be angry at him. “I’m glad I did it!” He says, mustering up all the bravado from before. “Ward, leave him. He deserves to die!”

“Get him out of here!”

“No!” It’s Jemma who speaks up, and Fitz finally allows himself to truly look at her. Her eyes are red, and it’s obvious that she has been crying for a while now. He feels a short pang of pity, but quickly pushes it back down. He’s finding it’s a lot easier to pretend he doesn’t feel anything than to experience the full range of emotions that are coursing through his body. “Please, Ward. He didn’t know!”

Ward ignores her, and instead addresses the two guards that are currently holding Fitz hostage. “I said, get him out of here.”

“Yes sir.”

…

She watches him being pulled away, and bites her lip worriedly. She had never meant for it to get this far. Any of it. He was supposed to say yes, and they were supposed to continue on as they had before. They were supposed to be partners.

She kneels down beside Garrett, a man she had once trusted, a man to whom she had once owed everything, a man who is now the very embodiment of everything she had grown to hate about herself, and half-heartedly began checking his vitals.

She’s reaching to pull up the hem of his shirt when he suddenly grabs her wrist, sending a sharp pain shooting up her arm that she tries to ignore.

She stiffens as she feels him lean in close to whisper in her ear, but it’s what he says to her that makes her blood run cold.

“I need you to do something for me,” He says. “Cross him off.”

“Sir…?” Her voice is weak and shaky, and she knows she can’t follow through with his request. “N-no sir. He can still be persuaded. I’m sure of it.”

His grip tightens around her wrist and she sucks in a deep breath to keep from crying out. “I’m telling you to cross him off. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No sir.” she whispers, but the words ring back in her ears, heavy with the weight of the lie she’s just told. She pushes herself up off her trembling knees and starts to make her way towards the door when Ward pulls her back and places his gun in her hands. The gesture knocks the breath right out of her, and her heart stutters in her chest. The mere thought of pointing a gun at her best friend is enough to force her to once again bite down the heavy sob that has been threatening to escape her since the moment they set foot on the Bus. She thinks briefly that it would be far easier to turn this gun on herself than Fitz, but the thought his quickly brushed aside. She doesn’t have a choice in the matter, and Fitz dies no matter what. Slowly, she forces her fingers to curl around the weapon.

…

He’s running as fast as his legs can carry him, though to where he’s not exactly sure. All he knows is that he needs to get away from his captors as quickly as possible, and maybe then he can focus on stilling his shaking hands and legs. He hasn’t felt this way since his early days at the Academy- this feeling that he’s dangling off a cliff, unable to catch his breath, his heart all but leaping out of his chest, his thoughts swimming, hazy and unclear through his mind. He’s nauseous, and sweating, but he can’t let go yet.

He turns the corner sharply and quickly realizes that he’s lost the two agents pursuing him. It’s then that he allows himself to fall over the ledge, pressing his back against the wall and slowly sliding down while sobs rack his body. He knows this must be what dying feels like. He’s still struggling to catch his breath, and presses the heel of his hand into his chest in a vain attempt to stop it from leaping out.

Jemma is Hydra. Jemma is _Hydra_. _Jemma_ is Hydra.

It’s not real, it can’t be real. Ten years of his life he had been by her side. Ten years of his life he had devoted to a friendship that was nothing more than a lie. Ten fucking years.

He’s never experienced pain quite this profound. Just yesterday he had thought that nothing could hurt worse than a friend’s betrayal. And in a way he had been right. Finding out Ward was Hydra had hurt like hell, but Jemma… There aren’t any words in existence to describe the way she had ripped coldly through his heart, leaving it broken and bloody.

Through the chaos in his mind he is faintly able to make out the soft footsteps making their way towards him. Slowly, he lifts his head and is met face to face with the one person he can’t stand to see.

“Fitz…” Simmons’ words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain. He says nothing, but finds that now that he is looking at her he can’t look away. She tries again, but her voice is just as soft and broken as before. “Fitz…”

“Don’t.” The coldness in his voice surprises both of them. She takes a step back, and tries to desperately blink back even more tears, because she had done this to him and she hates herself for it. They’re silent for awhile, before Fitz cracks a broken smile. “Did they send you down here to kill me?”

She fingers the gun in her hand carefully, dutifully, the only answer she can give. She wonders how they ever ended up here, with Fitz weak and shaking and her holding a gun ready to drive a fatal bullet through his chest.

He laughs mirthlessly and slowly rises to meet her gaze. “Figured they would eventually. Might as well get it over with Simmons, it’s pretty much a mercy at this point.”

Her grip tightens around the gun, but she makes no move to raise it. It’s Fitz who grabs her hand, and with a resigned sort of indignance raises the gun to his own head. She’s suddenly very aware of the way his fingers are wrapped around hers, feeling every point of contact as if it were a flame. It burns.

They stay like that for what feels like an eternity. Simmons realizes she’s started to cry. His face breaks her, his eyes boring into hers and asking all the questions she can’t answer. Fitz doesn’t say anything, but she can feel all the anger, and hurt, and betrayal rolling off of him in waves. Each second they spend like that feels like forever- a painful, maddening eternity.

His voice breaks the silence, heavy and thick with the weight of everything he’s feeling in that moment. “What are you waiting for, Jemma?” He asks. “Just do it. Please.”

“I-I can’t.” Her voice comes out barely above a whisper, and not nearly as strong as she had intended.

His hand tightens around hers and his eyes narrow angrily. She’s never seen him look like this before, certainly not at her. She wishes she was able to tear her eyes away from his, but even if she could manage it she knows his glare would be seared into her memory anyway. She hates everything about this, and she wants to tell him, but he speaks before she gets the chance. “Please Jemma, so I don’t have to.”

“Fitz-”

His reaction is immediate, pushing her hand away and pulling back all in one angry motion. “Damn it, Simmons! After everything you’ve put me through, after everything you’ve done to me, you owe me this.”

“I can’t kill you, Fitz!”

“Oh, you can’t? Why? Because I mean so much to you? If that’s not the biggest lie I’ve-”

“It’s not a lie!” His words sting, but try as she might she can’t find the words to combat them. Instead she feels the tears spilling out even faster, and she’s crying harder than she ever has before. “Fitz, you’re my best friend in the world.”

He doesn’t say anything, her words hanging heavily between them. The sick feeling from earlier comes rushing back and Fitz has to turn away because, quite frankly, he can’t stand to look at her. With his shoulders slumped forward and one hand pressed against the wall to steady his shaking legs, he finally manages to whisper the question he hasn’t been able to get out of his head. “How long?”

She hesitates for just a second, but the second is enough. “The Academy?” He asks, hoping against all hope that he’s wrong.

“I was recruited when I was 16. Hydra got me into the Academy, told me to make friends, so I-”

“You found me.” He finishes. “So the whole time then? Every day that we’ve know each other, the Academy, SciOps, this god damn plane, every second that we’ve been together has been a lie? That’s good to know.”

“Fitz, it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it? Back then I was just some lonely kid desperate for a friend, locking myself away in my room because I didn’t fit in. And then you knocked on my door in the middle of the night going on and on about how you were going to flunk out of the Academy because you didn’t understand some stupid tech assignment, and I thought I was the luckiest kid in the world because Jemma Simmons wanted my help. But it wasn’t luck, was it? I was just the perfect target.”

“N-no, you’re wrong.”

“Am I? Seems like I’ve been wrong about quite a few things lately.”

She doesn’t know what to say, because she can’t keep arguing with him like this. He’s right, and they both know it. It wasn’t an accident, or fate, or whatever else they would call it that led her to knock on his door in the middle of the night. She had picked him out as the smartest student at the Academy from day one, knowing how easy it would be to fit herself into his life. She hadn’t knocked on his door looking for a friend, she’d merely been following orders.

“I’m sorry.” She reaches forward to touch his arm, to cool some of the anger that’s built up inside him, but he jerks back the second she moves forward.

“Don’t.” He warns, his voice dangerously low. He’s giving her this hard, calculating look, the kind that makes her want to break his gaze and move away from him. But she can’t bring herself to leave, can’t bring herself to look away. The silence has settled between them once again, and she wonders if they can ever get back to the easy camaraderie that had once existed between them.

Probably not, she thinks bitterly. Even if they were to both get out of this whole mess alive, the idea that Fitz would ever forgive her for what she’s done is ridiculous. She’s crossed a line that should never have even needed to be drawn in the first place. She’d be stupid to believe that they could ever retrieve some semblance of the relationship they used to have. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And Hydra told her she was a genius.

“We were partners, Simmons.” He says, his voice so thick with hurt and betrayal she wonders at how he was even able to speak at all. “We worked together for years, so tell me, how much does Hydra know?”

The accusation stings, but not for any reason besides the truth. She can feel the guilty fire she had repressed for so long rear its ugly head once again, and she finds that she can’t look him in the eyes. Instead she repeats the only words it seems she’s capable of saying at the moment.

“I’m sorry.”

She’s disgusted with herself when she sees the way his face contorts in shame and anger as he realizes that every idea he’s had over the past ten years has been fed to the very organization that he would rather die than serve, that his mind has been exploited time and time again by the one person he thought he could trust above anyone else.

She feels like she might throw up.

An eternity seems to hang in the air before he speaks again. “Simmons, shoot me. Do what they ordered you to do. Please.”

“Fitz-”

He shakes his head weakly, not able to find it within himself to be angry anymore. “I can’t keep doing this Jemma. I can’t keep fighting you. Whatever Hydra wanted from me, I can’t let them have it, not anymore. So just shoot me, or I will.”

“You know I can’t do that.” She whispers, dropping the gun to the floor and kicking it away from both of them. “I meant what I said, Fitz. You’re my best friend. Every second of every day that has been the only truth in my life and I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

“And I hope you know how much I regret everything I’ve done to you. If there’s one thing in the world I know for certain, it’s that I can’t let you stay here. You have to get off this plane. You have to live, Fitz. I know I don’t have the right to ask anything from you, but can you do that for me?”

He hesitates, but only for a second, before he is able to nod his head slowly and look her in the eyes. “You were more than that, Jemma. My best friend, I mean. I never had the courage to tell you, and I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance again.” He allows himself to wonder briefly what would have happened if the situation was different. If Jemma didn’t work for Hydra, if they had always been fighting together like he had believed. He wonders if he would have ever told her the feelings he had been struggling with for so long, or if he would have found the strength to push them away. He wonders if she would have returned them. In the end, he finally figures, it doesn’t really matter. Life is full of what-ifs, and dwelling on them wouldn’t do him any good.

“Fitz, I-”

“I don’t wanna know. Whatever you were going to say, just leave it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He winces when he sees the hurt flash in her eyes, but amidst all the pain he is feeling he can’t find it in himself to regret what he said.

“So this is it then?” She asks, her voice thick and wobbly. “Us? Fitzsimmons? It doesn’t exist anymore?”

His answer is swallowed by the footsteps beating towards them, and even when she grabs his arm and drags him quickly down the corridor he knows it’s too late. There’s no escape, no time to work out a clever plan to get off the plane. He knows its over when he sees Ward coming after them, and when he pushes Jemma into the med pod, because, despite everything, she still needs to be safe. And they close the door together, and each knows that no matter what happens, that door isn’t opening for anybody. If they go down, they go down together.


End file.
